


Classy, Dirty Work

by Blodeuwedd



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Gen, Sibling friendship, Slight Mention of Rape, Supportive Siblings, mention of sex work, mention of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 13:44:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9443789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blodeuwedd/pseuds/Blodeuwedd
Summary: Free and back to the US, Mickey has a new mission in life: protect his sister. And he might have to find creative ways to do just that.AKA Milkovich-centered alternative S8 AKA what I think they're up to while theshow focuses on the Gallaghers





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crimsonswirls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonswirls/gifts).



> Based by the beautiful art by Crimsonswirls for the Shameless Reverse Bang.

 

Mickey Milkovich’s life was like a rollercoaster: whenever he thought things were getting better, they’d plummet back down again, harder than ever before. So he’d learned to enjoy the few and far between good moments in his life, before everything came crashing down again, as he knew it eventually would. And right now, if you asked him, was a really good moment.

 

After spending over a year in Mexico, Mickey had realized that life wasn’t worth it. Sure, he was free, but he was also lonely. He missed the people he had left behind and he hadn’t formed any new connections where he was. He spent his days working and drinking and it seemed like he was constantly looking over his shoulder. He felt like he was wasting away his life. He didn’t want to go back to prison, of course, but it didn’t seem fair that his only options were living lonely for however many years he still had or rotting away in prison for a crime he hadn’t committed. And then it dawned him.

 

He hadn’t used the money Ian had given him when they had parted ways. Partly because he was keeping it in case he needed it later, but partly because he was being petty and bitter and refused to take Ian’s help after being once again dumped, even if Ian himself would probably never know this. And maybe, just maybe, there was a tiny part of him that wanted to cling to the only thing he still had that had once belonged to Ian. Just maybe.

 

Armed with a plan and the means to execute it, Mickey had gotten to action: he’d hired a good lawyer. A really fucking good lawyer. She’d reopened his case and asked for another trial, where she’d shown there was no real evidence against him and, therefore, he shouldn’t even have been arrested to begin with. Sure, he hadn’t been on his best behavior while in prison and had escaped and lived as a fugitive for years, but none of it would have happened if he hadn’t been wrongly sentenced to begin with. She’d even threatened to sue the state for putting him in this awful situation and nearly ruining his life. In the end, they’d reached a deal and he was able to walk free, all charges dropped, and with more money than he’d ever seen in his life as compensation for his years of suffering and being apart from his family (and as a ‘shut up and please don’t sue us’ plea, which he was happy to accept). She really was one hell of a lawyer.

 

At 23 and free once again, Mickey was set on enjoying life. He packed his few belongings and set off to New York in search for his sister. He didn’t see the point in staying in Chicago any more than necessary. There were a few people he cared about who lived there, but most, if not all, wanted nothing to do with him, so he figured he’d try to find the one who might still care: Mandy. Also, he’d never stopped feeling a bit guilty for not having been able to protect his sister better (she’d argue with him and say it was him who needed protection, and she’d be right, but she still was his little sister and he couldn’t help feeling protective of her).

 

Fortunately, she’d kept the same phone number, so he found her easily. She wasn’t too happy about putting up with him, however, but he told her it wouldn’t be for long. He was now installed on her couch, searching for apartments he could afford - no sense spending money in a hotel. Mandy’s roommate, Rosie, wasn’t exactly pleased with the arrangement, but Mickey had offered to help with groceries, so she’d settled down. Bitch. She worked with Mandy at a clothes store at the mall. Or so they’d said. They kept odd hours, usually left for work way too well-dressed and in heels too high for someone who’d have to spend a long time on their feet, and sometimes had to travel. Mickey was no idiot. He had inferred Mandy was working as an escort, but since his sister hadn’t yet felt comfortable enough to share that with him, he’d kept quiet, waiting for her to tell him about it when and if she wanted to. He knew all too well what it felt like to not want people to know about something you felt ashamed of. Not that she had anything to be ashamed of. Work was work and she wasn’t hurting anyone, so who cared? As long as no one hurt her either, all was fine by Mickey.

 

And then, about a month after Mickey had moved in, all was _not fine_. Mickey was watching a sitcom, having just arrived from looking at a promising two-bedroom apartment, when Mandy stormed in, barely muttering a greeting before slamming her bedroom door behind her. Mickey figured she’d had a bad day at work, but dismissed it. Everyone has bad days, no matter what their occupation. It was only the next morning that he found out just how bad it had actually been.

 

He heard the screaming and tried to stay out of it, but gave up after a few minutes, annoyed that they were giving him a headache. He couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying, but Rosie sounded furious and Mandy sounded desperate. That enough was enough to gear him into action. He had, after all, come to New York to help and protect his sister.

 

He opened Mandy’s bedroom door and his eyes widened in shock as soon as he saw her face. She had a deep gash on her cheek and a darkening bruise near her eye. She gasped and stopped talking when she saw him standing there, and Rosie turned to tell him to leave.

 

“Go away, this doesn’t concern you” she said, a slight scowl on her face.

 

“The hell it doesn’t. If it’s got anything to do with whoever hurt my sister like that, then it fucking does.”

 

Rosie scoffed. “You don’t know shit. This is between us. Now leave.”

 

Mickey ignored her, eyes fixed on Mandy. “Who did that?”

 

Mandy just shook her head, eyes on the floor. “Not now, Mick.”

 

“Who was it?”

 

“Didn’t I tell you to fucking leave?” Rosie shouted at him.

 

“Mandy, who was it? Was it a client?”

 

That made his sister look up at him again, eyes wide. “You… knew?”

 

He shrugged. “Figured. Was it, then?”

 

“It’s all taken care of, you can leave now” Rosie insisted again.

 

“Yes, it _is_ taken care of, because I’m _not_ doing it.” Mandy seemed to have found her voice again.

 

“Doing what?”

 

Both women ignored Mickey’s question and Rosie took a step closer to Mandy. “Need I remind you what will happen if you don’t do it?”

 

“Do what, bitch, what the fuck are you talking about it?”

 

“Go out with him tonight.” It was Mandy who answered, sounding defeated.

 

“With him? Who’s… wait, the guy who hit you? Hell, no, you’re not doing that!”

 

“She has to.” It was Rosie who said it, turning to him with slight smile. “She has to, or she’s out.”

 

“Out of what? Out of the job?”

 

“Of the job, of the apartment and who knows what else?”

 

Mandy sighed and Mickey saw her discreetly brush away a few tears. “No way. Mandy, you can’t. We’ll find a way.”

 

“Better find another place to live”, Rosie scoffed again.

 

“I saw a nice apartment today, I think I’ll get it, so we can live there” Mickey said in a low and calm voice, approaching his sister.

 

“Today.” Rosie’s voice was cold as ice. “If you’re not doing it, you’re out today.”

 

“Wait, today? We…”

 

“She’s my boss” Mandy explained. “Well, sort of. She’s my booker. There is a higher boss, but she’s the one who arranges the meetings. She can actually fire me, Mickey, and expel me, since it’s her apartment.”

 

Mickey sighed. “Fine, sure, we’ll go today. We can stay in a hotel or something. There’s one in every corner of this city, shouldn’t be too hard to find a spot to stay until we find a place.”

 

Mandy looked at him with wide eyes. “Are you sure? You don’t have to do this.”

 

He took his sister's hands on his own. “Mandy, I _want_ to do this. I owe you this much.”

 

Her eyes filled with tears and she nodded, dripping a few of them. She put her arms around his neck and he held her close, rubbing her back to soothe her. “It’ll be okay, Mands. You’ll be okay.”

 

“That’s very touching, but you _owe_ me” Rosie interrupted them, eyebrows raised when the siblings looked at her.

 

“What do you mean she owes you?”

 

“She’s been living here, rent free, for… how long now, two years? She barely pays for anything here…”

 

“You fucking liar, you take every cent of that out from what I earn and you know it.” Mandy was back to angry, which Mickey took as a good sign, a sign that she was ready to fight once more.

 

He, on the other hand, was exhausted. He was tired of always having to fight over one thing or another, of always having life throw him a curveball. He wanted - he needed - some peace. “How much?”

 

Rosie didn’t beat around the bush. “Ten thousand dollars.”

 

“I’ll give you two.”

 

“Eight.

 

“Three.”

 

“Seven or I’ll tell the big boss about this and he won’t be happy.”

 

“Well, if I’m talking with the big boss anyway, perhaps I can give _him_ the money directly then.”

 

Rosie gulped down and sighed. “Five thousand. Cash.”

 

Mickey smirked. “That I can do. Come on, Mands, pack your shit, we’re moving.”

  
  


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The hotel room was small, but clean and with a bed large enough for them to share. They checked-in and crashed over it, mentally exhausted from the day’s events. Mickey examined Mandy’s sleeping form. He could still see the faint outline of her bruises even through the heavy make-up she’d used to try to cover it up. She’d applied a dark eyeshadow, black eyeliner, red lipstick and some other things Mickey couldn’t really name but that made her look even more beautiful than she naturally was. She looked glamorous, chic. But Mickey knew she hadn’t worn that make-up today to look prettier. Today, that was her war paint. Mickey vowed to himself to take better care of Mandy, which had been the reason for him coming over anyway. He just needed to figure out how.

 

He had some money, sure, but it wouldn’t last forever. He needed a job, but what job could an ex-con, ex-fugitive with nearly no experience or qualifications get? He could try doing the job he did when he lived in Mexico, painting houses and buildings, but that would pay even less in America than it did there and it was, ironically, usually reserved for Mexicans.

 

“Gotta find a new job now” Mandy voiced his thoughts over a breakfast of leftover pizza and Gatorade the next morning. She sighed. “You know, judge me if you want to, but I liked being an escort.” She eyed Mickey over the rim of her bottle, looking for some judgment on his face. All she was met with was curious silence, however, so she continued. “I mean, sometimes it sucked, of course, but what job doesn’t? But there were perks too. I got to wear pretty clothes and go to nice places, restaurants, clubs, even on short-trips occasionally. I got presents. Some guys didn’t even want sex, you know? Just company. And once in a while the client wasn’t so hard to look at.” She smirked and winked at her brother.

 

Mickey took a big gulp of to wash down the last of the pizza and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Gonna keep on doing that?”

 

Mandy shrugged. “I don’t know. Can’t do it without an agency.”

 

Mickey burped. “Well, find one then.”

 

“Not that easy. I mean, Rosie and the big boss took a shot on me, really, but for most agencies I’m not pretty enough, not fancy enough. Just a common whore.” She looked down at her hands and Mickey frowned.

 

“Mandy, you’re beautiful. And you’re dead fancy. You see yourself with that make-up on? That was some fancy shit!”

 

She smiled shyly at him. “Thanks. Yeah, I’ll think about it. Got take a shot, right?”

 

“That’s what I’m talking about!”

 

Mickey nibbled on his lower lip for a while, deep in thought, while Mandy cleaned up their trash. He startled when Mandy snapped her fingers in front of him.

 

“Earth to Mickey!”

 

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Mandy was looking at him expectantly and he cleared his throat. “Just… Thinking about how I also need a fucking job but I have no clue what.”

 

She smirked. “Hey, if you want to be a male escort, I’m sure you could pull it off.”

 

“You wanna fucking die?” he barked at her, but laughed along with her. “Nah, can’t do it. Even if I were, like, more fit and stuff, there’s no way I’d have the patience to deal with those motherfuckers. I can be a pimp, but no way I can be an escort.”

 

“Maybe that’s it then” Mandy said, throwing herself over the large bed. “You should open your own agency, then I could work for you.”

 

Mickey snorted. “Yeah, bitch, dream on.” Still, it gave him thought. Could he?

  
  


The idea got pushed to the back of his mind over the next few weeks, however. He finally bought his apartment, being astounded with the sheer amount of paperwork necessary. The apartment wasn’t furnished, so they had to buy everything from scratch, which involved endless hours of online research and walking from store to store in order to find things that were good enough to last them a few years but also not so expensive that they couldn’t afford it. They moved in as soon as the refrigerator was installed and the beds were in place. Everything else they could deal with later.

 

They were so busy that searching for a job had been nearly impossible, both procrastinating it until they just couldn’t anymore. After buying the apartment and some of the furniture and appliances, they were low on money. Dangerously low. They resumed their search, which only served to further convince Mickey that there was no job he was able to do that would allow them to keep living in New York.

 

He closed the laptop in frustration after what seemed like hours of job hunting. The idea of opening an escort agency popped back into his mind, uncalled for but welcome. Was it such bad idea? He was sure Mandy had been joking when she suggested it, but really, what did he need? Girls, for starters. Clients, but those would come once he had the girls. He’d need a phone specifically for that purpose and he’d need to place an ad on Craigslist. Maybe he could have a website too. He’d have to invest some money, but it shouldn’t be too hard. He did have a bit of expertise in the area, and Mandy could account for the part he didn’t know. He opened the laptop again, quickly opening an

incognito window on his browser - he didn’t need that sort of question on his history. He hesitated, fingers hovering above the keyboard. How the hell should he phrase that? Shrugging, he typed in “how to open an escort agency”. Time for a different kind of research.

  


~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~

  


Mickey stretched, rolling his shoulder and popping his joints. He rubbed his eyes, blinking them to regain focus. He’d been drafting a business plan for hours, researching everything and anything he’d need. He closed the laptop when he heard the front door opening and looked up to see Mandy come in, bags of groceries in hand. She looked exhausted, body sagging as soon as she set the bags on the nearby table. She had just started working for a shoe store and she was still adapting to the busy routine and the long hours. She sagged on the couch next to Mickey and put her feet over his lap. He had to move the laptop to the floor quickly and scowled at her.

 

“I bought the groceries, you put them away.”

 

Mickey swallowed his instinctive reply of “put them away yourself, bitch” and did as he was told. He had been trying this new thing where he was more civil with people - at least those he liked. He figured he didn’t always have to have a snide remark at the tip of his tongue and there was no problem in doing something his sister had asked him to. He wasn’t obeying her, he was being _nice_. It didn’t make him weak or stupid, it made him a better human being. And Mickey wanted to be just that.

 

“Hey, you remember that thing you said some time ago?” Mickey asked into the refrigerator while he put away some milk and butter. He closed the refrigerator door with a light kick. “About opening an escort agency?” He stood on the kitchen doorway, eyes on his sister, who still had her forearm crossed over her eyes. “What if I did do it?”

 

Mandy lifted her arm and looked at her brother, frowning. “You serious?”

 

He shrugged, feeling self-conscious, and went back to unpacking the groceries. “I don’t know, maybe. I was looking into it this afternoon. It’d be a bit of work and I’d need to invest a bit, but it’s doable. Hardest part would be finding the girls though. You think you could do that?”

 

Mandy sat up, instantly excited about the prospect. “Yeah, sure. I know some girls who might be interested, and we could always recruit new people. You really wanna do that?”

 

Mickey came back into the living room and sat back next to Mandy on the couch. “Only if you want to. And if you help me. I can’t do it without you, but I don’t want you to do it if you’re not interested. It’s just… You seemed into it before, so I figured you’d like the idea.”

 

“I love the idea! And I’ll totally help!” She took her phone out of her jeans pocket and started taking notes. “All right, what do we need?”

 

Mickey smiled. Just seeing Mandy this excited about something already made the whole thing worth it.

  


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

  


They dove into work immediately. Mandy didn’t quit her job at the shoe store yet , as much as she wanted to, per Mickey’s request. “What if it doesn’t work, Mands? Besides, we need some cash to spend right now.”

 

Mickey started a fake marketing company to cover his tax income receipts and set up a website, which was a lot more time consuming than he’d thought it’d be, but turned out quite good. Mandy recruited girls and Mickey also put an ad on Craigslist. They ended up interviewing a lot more girls than they had anticipated, but most of them were unfit. In the end, they had seven escorts, including Mandy, and the Milkovich siblings were considering it a success. Now all they needed were clients.

 

As soon as they had pictures of all the girls and they’d all been instructed on what to do and what not to do, Mickey put the website for the agency online, as well as placed ads on several other websites, most of which he even paid for. He figured it’d take a couple of days for them to book their first meeting, but it was more like a couple of hours. Within the first twenty-four hours Mickey had already talked to more potential clients than he’d imagined they’d get all week. He screened them all, which was tedious and took a long time, especially since he was knew to this, but was also a vital part of the process. He did not want a repeat on what had happened to Mandy - or worse. And he definitely didn’t want to get busted by an idle cop who had nothing better to do than go after people who were just trying to make a living. He was happy not to find anything shady about any of the clients, and the appointments were set.

 

Things moved pretty fast from then on. The following weeks were hectic, but Mickey was happy and, more importantly, Mandy was happy. He took her out one night to celebrate their first month of business.

 

“You happy?” he asked and was glad to see her beaming at him.

 

“Very. I can hardly believe it. I mean, it’s not much, but it’s ours, you know?” He did. Who would have thought that two kids born and raised in one of the most dangerous places in the whole country, with a Nazi rapist for a father and hardly any prospects in life, who had been through so much shit in their lives that most of the times they couldn’t even see a light in the end of the tunnel, would one day be sitting in a bar in New York, celebrating one month of a blooming business? They certainly wouldn’t have.

 

“Cheers!” He said, raising his champagne flute.

 

“To our dirty work!” Mandy lightly touched her glass to his.

 

“Hey! To our classy…” he raised his eyebrows to emphasize the word and Mandy snickered “...dirty work.”

Mandy grinned at him and touched their flutes again. “To us.”

 

“To us.”

 


End file.
